Dallas Restaurant Guide

This world famous steak house has a reputation for serving top-notch aged, corn-fed USDA Prime steaks that literally sizzle. Ruth's Chris's selection of savory appetizers, entrees and seasonal specialties, and homemade desserts, brands this Dallas steak house as a restaurant for all to enjoy. Online reservations are suggested.
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This two-story bistro blends cuisines from around the Mediterranean: Italian, French and Middle Eastern. The casual air and wide-ranging menu make it a popular spot, especially for slurping up some wonderful osso bucco, the exceedingly tender, long-stewed veal shanks that are a house specialty. Quaint and very romantic setting.

This McKinney Avenue standby remains as romantic as ever and adept in the kitchen, though the service was inexplicably sluggish on our visit and some of the dishes didn't fit the menu descriptions. Tournedos Avantí--a butter-tender, perfectly grilled fillet in a rich mushroom sauce--was superb, though it was supposed to come in a peppercorn sauce and there wasn't a peppercorn in sight. The Caesar arrived well-dressed with just the right mixture of salt and tang, and the linguini with clams and mussels sauce came in an ocean-sized portion. There's live music every night, a perfect complement to the dimly lit, bistro-style environs, and many diners opt to eat on the attractive patio when weather permits.

Not only does Basha serve lots of garlicky hummus, roasted eggplant dip, tabbouleh, tangy labni (Middle Eastern cream cheese) made from house-made yogurt, falafel balls and great kabobs. It also serves up special dinners in a "tent room" where you can sit on a low couch and eat sans knives or forks, replacing them with pieces of just-baked saj bread to scoop up grub. Belly dancers even stroll in for a kind of vivacious, animated dessert, the kind you get when you put a dish of pudding on a coin-op motel bed.

If only we had a placid lake or high mountain setting to linger over in Dallas, this category might be flooded with possibilities. But most outdoor dining here overlooks a parking lot or busy intersection, and oppressive heat and smog alerts cure even the most incurable romantics among us. One restaurant that is really trying to alter the landscape is Celebration, which has several outdoor seating areas, friendly to lovers and families alike. In the summer, its outdoor patio sprinkles a cooling spray from its several mist machines. In the winter, well-placed electric heaters and an outdoor fireplace conjure up feelings of a ski chalet. The traditional home-cooking fare is consistently competent and abundant, much like it has been through its 31 years in service. And between the fountains, the mist machines, the fireplace, fans and food, you might not even notice the cars racing down Lovers Lane.

Lots of spaces in Dallas ply the fused stuff, the culinary caulk known as Tex-Mex. A few places ply genuine Mexican food, some even going so far as to represent the varied and distinct cuisines from around that nation. But no one in Dallas creates Mexican cuisine with the dazzle and verve of restaurateur Monica Greene and chef Joanne Bondy at Ciudad. The restaurant was conceived as a reflection of the sophisticated cuisine ambling around the menus of Mexico City--a sort of big-city chic lassoed and stuffed into a Dallas taco (Ciudad stuffs its tacos with goat). Now this cuisine ambles around Dallas, twisting some needed sophistication torque onto the typical Mexican flush. This twist is fueled with things like ceviche pumped with a vanilla-pineapple pico and lamb chops enveloped with cumin and aroused with tomato fennel salsa. No need for bean retreads or dried-out rice.

Though a lot of the food is monotonously topped with sautéed crabmeat (albeit good, sweet crabmeat), this Creole-Cajun-French fusion foray is smooth, clean and fresh. Sausage in the gumbo is generous and voluptuous, while the shrimp and crawfish are plump and sweet. Cheesecake, which purportedly takes two days to make, is good, too, even if it isn't topped with sautéed crabmeat.

It's always busy, even in midafternoon, and now we know why. This upscale American chain does everything just right, from excellent steaks to melt-in-your-mouth pork ribs and inventive starters, such as the New Mexico City-style soup. Don't skip the salads, which are outstanding. Many of the entrées come with delectable skins-on, thin-cut french fries sprinkled with seasoning salt. This is a perfect place to take finicky friends; the menu has a few nods to the adventurous but amply satisfies the discriminating carnivore. Clubby, wood-paneled surroundings and polished service. The only drawback--and it's a significant one, given the crowds--is the no-reservations policy.

No yellow-cheese enchilada combos on the menu at this dress-nice spot on the edge of Highland Park. Outside, valet parkers rush to wrangle lines of limos and Jags, even on weeknights. Inside, mostly older-demographic diners, dressed in crisp country-club threads, squeeze into three dining rooms to politely pack their cheeks with elegantly played Mexico City-style entrées, including cabrito (goat), quail, red snapper (prepared half a dozen ways) and sublimely garlicky chicken. For starters, break the nacho habit and try a bowl of Caldo Xochitl blending tender bites of chicken breast, fresh avocado and cilantro in a spicy consommé. Among entrées, a generous portion of Snapper ˆ la Javier arrives on a plate crowded with green olives, juicy tomato chunks and stacks of perfectly steamed carrot and zucchini slices. Pollo al Ajillo brings a plate of chicken breasts sautéed in lemony garlic sauce, with black beans, rice and guacamole on the side. The traditional basket of chips sits by little bowls of warmed verde sauce. Service is attentive and swift. The atmosphere can be a little noisy, but at least there's no music to drown a conversation. A cigar room in the back serves the biz-dinner guys.

Oh, how cozy this place is. La Duni is owner Espartaco Borga's quest to craft a Latin Brasserie with homestyle food from Brazil, Argentina, Peru, Venezuela, Colombia, Mexico and Cuba served for breakfast, lunch and dinner. All the homespun recipes are authentic, and to that end, he succeeds spectacularly with enhancements such as house-baked goods and wine program agility that is as sophisticated as it is functional. La Duni's wine list catalogs some 89 wines, all of them from Spain or South America and all of them available in more ways than you can order a religious experience. They'll serve your wine by the half-glass, by the glass, by the half-bottle, by the bottle--hell, they'd probably pour some in your Calvin's if you asked them to. And like all religious experiences, wine makes a swell breakfast beverage, no matter how you order it.

This is without question one of the finest venues in the metroplex. Few eateries possess the inviting, warm pull this Provenal bistro exerts, from the sheaves of dried lavender that soak the place with a sharp, musky smell, to the brick arches that provide a gentle rustic edge. A cursory glance at the table makes it clear that everything touching it has been given painstaking attention, with food that is swept with imaginative, articulate flavors. Owned by Chez Gerard proprietor Pascal Cayet, Lavendou is what fine dining should be: romance, elegance and engaging flavors seamlessly orchestrated into a simple, highly expressive culinary experience.

Much ado is made of barbecue in Dallas, and it's true that a lot of places roll out a tasty rib platter, but none comes close to the culinary sensations being served up at Peggy Sue BBQ. The spareribs, rubbed in spine-shivering spices and cooked to tender perfection, are a good choice. However, the showstopper is the baby backs, which are cooked in an oh-my-God-this-is-so-sweet-I-have-it-on-my-ears-and-I-don't-care sauce made of maple and brown sugar. Combined with the salty taste of the meat, which falls from the bone, these ribs are as good as it gets.

In addition to live jazz, this Deep Ellum New American "fusion" hut with a loft dining room has a menu with plush Asian influences and a casual French grip. The most overtly hip element in this place is its shrewdly eclectic wine list--and that's something to sniff at.

This grand dining room is worthy of kings and visiting bosses, plus the menu offers brilliant twists on its French foundations. Service is smoothly attentive and sincere.

It's hard not to loudly laud Dean Fearing's imaginative Southwestern-influenced fare. It's brilliantly conceived and painstakingly assembled, with selections like the roasted pheasant and molasses-glazed foie gras that simply wash over you with wonder. And the spectacular 26-page wine list with a table of contents reads like a great literary work: It has breadth, depth, soul and deep roots. The service, impeccably executed, ably matches the rich, subdued ambiance. It's ruinously expensive, but now that home equity loan rules have been relaxed, the constraints on splurging have been dramatically reduced.

Fess up. When's the last time you enjoyed a plate of prison food? Don't answer that question until you travel to McKinney and venture a half-block off the city's square to the historic landmark that served as the Collin County jail for 99 years and now is known as the Prison Bars & Grill. (Watch for the Blues Brothers statues at the entrance.) For lunch we chose the chicken quesadillas and the veggie wrap (zucchini and squash) served with an add-your-own condiment sampling. The avocado/bacon burger came as ordered--medium well--with a generous helping of tasty fries. The servers don't mind substituting fries for veggies, and they keep the soft drinks coming. Give a nod to a couple of decadent desserts such as the "file disguise"--scrumptious carrot cake--and the Kiss of Death, white chocolate mousse drizzled with raspberry sauce. Unlike Raymond Hamilton, Bonnie & Clyde's running mate who escaped from his cell here in 1932, you might want to stay for a while at The Prison.

The Riviera is practically a Dallas Institution, distinguished by its suave continental food and sensibility. To that end, its service execution is tight and remorselessly efficient. While it embraces a level of formality that can leave you a little chilly, it's impressive nonetheless: attentive and well-orchestrated to the point of dizziness. Wine glasses are whisked away immediately after the wine is ordered and replaced to reflect the appropriate type of wine. The ensuing service is impeccable, right to the wiping of the dribbles from the neck lip of the wine bottle. Glasses are filled as soon as the supply in the glass gets low, as if a pair of eyes hovers over the table waiting for the wine level in the glass to drop below 2 ounces. Servers are well-briefed on the menu, answering detailed questions without so much as a brain-strained hiccup. It's the kind of professionalism and coddling you wish the IRS would employ. But then you'd have to tip them. And who could survive that?

Las Colinas' popular Via Real resembles the airy courtyard of an upscale Mexican home, complete with a cozy fireplace and enclosed patio seating. The menu melds the best of the Southwest and Mexico, featuring fresh takes on steak and seafood as well as Tex-Mex specialties. It's hard to go wrong here. For starters, the ceviche, made with superbly fresh shrimp and scallops, was the best we've tried in the area--even though the mango advertised on the menu was missing. The seafood tamale and Tentaci—n--featuring a buttery 6-ounce filet mignon and several grilled shrimp--continued the pattern of well-prepared, modestly inventive cuisine. The filet was juicy, unlike a lot of wood-grilled meats, and the shrimp were topped with a delicious savory tomato sauce that paired well with the rich red jalapeño mashed potatoes. The seafood tamale, packaged for looks in a corn husk, was bursting with colorful ingredients--lush pink shrimp, red fish and white scallops. We ended it with excellent flan. Brisk, professional service, despite the presence of several private parties.